


there was nowhere to go but everywhere

by Lediona



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Making peace, New Beginnings, Post-1d, Travel, finding yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 01:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13625820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lediona/pseuds/Lediona
Summary: It snuck up on him gradually, the realisation that this is actually ending. The entirety of the last five years feels like a fever dream when he tried to make sense of it all. It’s impossible to look at too closely - it had become a mass of noise and sound and energy in his memory, too fast-paced and blurred now to be recognisable as individual moments of his life.





	there was nowhere to go but everywhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpecificGeneral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecificGeneral/gifts).



It snuck up on him gradually, the realisation that this is actually ending. The entirety of the last five years feels like a fever dream when he tried to make sense of it all. It’s impossible to look at too closely - it had become a mass of noise and sound and energy in his memory, too fast-paced and blurred now to be recognisable as individual moments of his life. 

The last concert of the tour had been emotional. He vaguely remembers playing the final chorus of Act My Age repeatedly and hugging each of the boys but nothing much more. And there had been no time to linger over it because then they were in the rush of releasing an album and all the promotional appearances that went along with it. It was easier to deny that a big change was coming when his mind was occupied and his body exhausted from years of jetlag. 

As the end of the year closed in, when most people were in a state of eager anticipation for the holidays, Niall felt like he is swimming farther out to sea, the shore becoming a distant glimmer of safety and he was trying not to panic from the weight of uncertainty that threatens to drag him down below the surface.

Boy bands don’t last forever. He knows that. But a part of him felt like this one could. Like he could sing on that stage, with the comfort of his guitar hanging around his neck and his four brothers at his side for the rest of his life. Niall shakes his head as if to clear it. 

Three brothers now. And soon to be none.

He forces himself to breathe and he watches the crew go through familiar routine of preparing for their soundcheck - wardrobe is steamed, microphones and in-ears checked, guitars are tuned. He can hear Louis’ laugh carrying through the corridor from where catering is set up, and he knows Liam will come looking for him any moment as he does final pre-show checks of his own, making sure, as he always does, that each of them are ready to go.

He’s going to miss this. The rush of adrenaline he gets from stepping out on stage. The wall of noise that greets them when the lights go up. It’s in his blood now and he doesn’t remember how to live without it. But there is a tension on stage that was never there before. The joy of performing as One Direction has gone for all of them. The end is nearer and the harder they pretend that it’s just another gig, the more obvious it becomes that it’s not. That truth is crushing. Niall can’t decide if he wants to go back or move forward. He feels trapped in this in-between world where nothing feels right anymore.

They finish up on stage and give a final bow to the small television studio crowd and head backstage. Each of them moving off to their own space, as if following some intrinsic choreography of finality and Niall watches as if it was happening to someone else. They still move as one, except now it’s away from each other instead of towards. 

He misses them already.

After gathering his things, their bodyguards bustle him towards the caravan of black SUVs with tinted windows that wait to escort them back to the hotel. Niall hops up on the leather seat as various members of their entourage settle around him. Their chatter washes over him as the lights blur past outside. He realises he’s forgotten what city they’re in until he sees a road sign indicating that it’s New York. 

They’ve been everywhere and yet Niall remembers nowhere.

What is the point of travelling the world if you can’t see the world? It’s fucking frustrating and disappointing, and really not what Niall thought it’d be at all. When he’d imagined making it big as a kid, he thought about getting out of Ireland and flinging himself into the wanderlust he associated with being a touring musician. Always a new city, a new country. Places thrumming with life, intense, chaotic and rich. Instead One Direction was, in a sense, a form of isolation. They were always kept apart or confined, getting out to see the sights only after precise safety procedures had been worked out and with a host of bodyguards on hand in case they were noticed. Louis’ line from History floats through his head and he shakes his head at the ridiculousness of it all. It feels more like a military operation than international travel. 

His friends from back home post pictures of themselves climbing some far off mountains or drinking cheap beer at a rickety bar on sparkling turquoise beaches. Niall envies them. 

That night, after a shower and grabbing a drink from the well stocked mini bar, he sits down at the desk in this hotel room, which is indistinct from all the other hotel rooms he’s stayed in, and begins to write a list. Some of them come back easily, pen scratching across the paper headed with the hotel’s insignia. Niall hates it but doesn’t have his notebook with him, left behind in London accidentally. Others he doesn’t recall and he has to get out his phone to look up old tour dates.

In a few days, there will be no more music, and after that he’ll head home to Mullingar to see his family. But then what? He knows Harry’s made plans to launch a solo career - that still smarts - and maybe he’s been stupid, ignoring the inevitable like he has, pretending that nothing is going to change, but it will and now Niall has to make plans of his own. 

When he finishes, there is a list of 37 cities on the page. Places they played once and some they’ve been to repeatedly. Each one calling him to visit again. But this time, he could do it on his terms. 

Maybe this can be what he does next. 

This could be his gap year, although uni is clearly not in his future. A year before whatever comes next then. A year to travel, get into trouble and just be Niall. A year of hostels and street food. A year with only a rucksack and his guitar. He can do it surely. 

He carefully folds up the paper and places it in his wallet, where it will sit for the next three and a half weeks as they finish up promo and their final performances, until the day Niall packs his bag and begins to check off places on that list.

 

~~Melbourne, Australia~~

The heat is unbearable. Niall always forgets just how damn hot it can be here, despite the number of times he’s visited. The weather seems to change on a whim in Melbourne - yesterday was positively Baltic in comparison. Now he sits in the stands of Rod Laver Arena under full sun with no breeze to offer any relief from the sweltering heat. There’s sweat dripping down the back of his neck and well, everywhere, actually. He’s going to be the colour of a lobster by the end of this match. He contemplates going to buy one of those tiny tubes of sunscreen at the souvenir kiosks dotted around the grounds, but Nole is playing so he can’t leave. Shifting uncomfortably, his elbow rubs the arm of the man next to them and they both pull away quickly to avoid the unpleasant feeling of sweaty skin on sweaty skin. On court, Novak pummels a forehand winner down the sideline, his opponent scrambling towards the side of the court but with no chance of touching the ball. Niall claps.

  


Hello Payno!  
Missing ya, bud - it’s strange being here on my own, especially in January. We were always here around the Australian Open so touring and tennis seem to go together. Caught Novak’s match yesterday. It was like watching tennis from a fucking sauna, but he won so that was cool. I know I didn’t really explain myself before I left, but I couldn’t figure out the right words. Still don’t have them really. But I’m sorry I snapped at you - I know you were just worried. It’s all good though and I feel like I’m sorting my shit out and having a few adventures too. I’ll catch you for a pint when I’m back in London, yeah?  
Much love,  
Nialler xx

 

~~Rio de Janeiro, Brazil~~

Niall is breathing harder than he’d like to admit by the time he reaches the the top of Corcovado. Glancing at his watch, he notes it’s taken just under 2 hours and 40 minutes for him to make the climb, and seeing as he hasn’t had much of a workout routine these last couple months, he’s quite pleased with that. The queues are already miles long, despite the fairly early hour, and Niall joins up behind a family with two teenage daughters in tow. He’s suddenly thankful for his sunglasses and snapback but keeps his head down anyway, hoping they won’t notice him. He thinks there’s a blister forming on his heel and contemplates taking the train back down the mountain after his visit. Ahead of him, there’s a gasp and a squealed ‘oh my god’. Niall sighs internally and prepares himself to play the part of Niall Horan. 

  


Heeeeey Tommo!  
Saw this and thought of you - beach, balls and Brazilian men, what more could ya want? Went up to see Christ the Redeemer again the other day. No bread van this time. Thank Christ! Just strolled on up like a normal fucking tourist. That view still takes my breath away and being up there made me think of you and the lads. After our last performance, I wasn’t in a good place with it all. I know you’re very aware of that, but I thought I should admit it anyway. It’s taken a long time for me to even want to think about performing and songwriting again, but I’ve actually been writing a bit. No complete songs or anything, but ideas and a few lines here and there. It feels good. I’m in L.A. next month. Can we meet up? I miss you, Tommo.  
Much love,  
Nialler xx

 

~~Berlin, Germany~~

Niall loves cities where it’s legal to drink in the street. They always seem ready for a good time. It probably shouldn’t surprise him that Berlin is one of those places. The street is packed with people - protesters with signs reading ‘Stadt für alle‘ and ‘Kapitalisten enteignen’, buskers strumming guitars, vendors selling Turkish food, other Berliners who are just out for a street party, and some random tourists who, like himself, have wandered into the demonstration by accident. Niall sips his beer, joining in a chant of ‘Nazis raus’, despite the niggling fear that someone is going to photograph him at an anti-fascist rally and it’ll spread like wildfire online and he’ll get an irate call from his publicist. He’s on his fourth beer however, so he gives fewer fucks than he normally would. He takes a sip and pushes through the crowd.

  


Hey Harry,  
I was on a street art tour of Berlin yesterday and I thought you’d have liked it. Lots of ironic or provocative murals that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the walls of your house. It’s strange seeing cities like this - Berlin has become a whole new place even though we’ve been here so many times.   
I’m struggling to know what to write on this. Part of me will always be angry, I think, but I’m trying to understand why you did what you did. It was business. I get that. I just wish you would have told us up front. But it’s done and we’ll all be finding our own paths now. I’m pretty sure you start filming soon. That’s got to be intimidating, stepping into a completely new world. Good on you for taking it on. Good luck!  
Best,  
Niall

 

~~Dubai, United Arab Emirates~~

After growing up in Ireland, where aircon is like a mythical being, Niall has never been more grateful for its existence than he is in Dubai. He’s spent most of his time hopping between air conditioned restaurants, indoor shopping centres, the indoor driving range, taxis and his hostel. The brief moments outside leave him feeling like he’s being baked in an oven. But today he’s determined to visit one of the famous souks in the city. These better be some damn good spices to make it worth it though. The first thing that hits him is smell of the souk - the air is heavy with the fragrance of spices, frankincense and perfume. It makes him dizzy at first, but as he winds his way through the stalls he gets used to it. The towering displays of spices are incredible and so colourful. He feels like he should buy some to remember the experience, but spices have never really been his thing. Maybe as a gift for his mum, although she probably wouldn’t use them either. He buys some anyway.

  


Dear Zayn,  
So this is bound to be an unexpected piece of mail, but I hope it’s a good surprise rather than an unpleasant one. I’m in Dubai, as you probably gathered by the picture on the front, and being back here has made me think about everything that went down last year. I’m sorry you never got to perform here with us, but maybe you will in the future as a solo artist. I know I was a bit of a shit to you and I’m sorry for that. You deserve better and I wish I’d been more supportive. You are killing it though! I downloaded Pillowtalk when it first came out - it’s a jam. I’m so happy you’re able to make music that you love and I’m sure the awards will be rolling in. I’m proud of you and I wish you well, Zaynie. Can’t wait for the album to drop!  
Niall x


End file.
